Deus Ex Machina
by Darktayle
Summary: Timetravel. When Geostigma returns, the Planet itself withers away from sickness. Cloud, defeated by the illness, cannot find rest even in death as the world calls on him again as its savior. Of course, nothing is ever that easy. SephirothxCloud
1. The Man Without an End

Right. Hopefully the title says enough for what type of story this is. Time travel, duh. Also, SephxCloud, because FF is, like, the focal point of all yaoi. From my observations you get more yaoi than het in FF game fandoms, for whatever reason. I'm not complaining. :D Also, please be aware that I do not own, neither have I ever played FFVII (something I plan on correcting ASAP) but have put craploads of research into it. It simply means that I may not have an accurate portrayal of the facts, and will avoid mentioning the characters I know least about. Like Reeve, Barret, and (insert names of most AVALANCHE members). But, yeah. The only FFVII fanfictions I've ever read have been time travel ones, and they fascinate me. So I really, really want to do one. Hell, I'm obsessed with Time travel fics, and have written a freakload of them in the past in the strangest categories. Rest assured, I'm experienced at this type of story. :D Read on.

xxxxxx

Cloud clenched his fist painfully, staring up from the bed with squinting eyes, bright that they glowed fiercely in the navy darkness. As it was at this time of day, the only light through the windows was dark blue, with the strangely saturated quality of the coming twilight. He was almost glaring, furious with his weakness and inability to move from this prone defenselessness.

"Try to rest, Cloud." Tifa spoke softly. "Getting up won't help. Just rest, and get better." She was seated on a chair at his bedside, of course. She hadn't left him since he collapsed. Marlene and Denzel came in to visit frequently, often bringing food and news of the world outside this lonely room. Disease was extending, so it seemed. Even the plants were dying, though it wasn't surprising. Merely different.

He didn't answer, but let out a soft snort at her words. Tifa was one of his closest friends, he'd known her since he was a child. But one thing that had never changed in her, one of the most endearing and infuriating things, was her ability to delude herself. It was optimism, a light in the dark, but in this situation was almost nauseating. The worst kind of optimism was this, was one that obsessed you, convinced you that things would be okay even if there wasn't a damn _hope_ of anything turning out alright.

Cloud knew full well the truth. If she stopped to think, so would she. Of course, the thing about lying to one's self is that it was never absolute. Tifa knew the verity of what she denied, she knew it very well, and that was why she fought against accepting it with all of her being.

They both knew that, no matter how much he rested, he'd not be rising from this bed again lest a miracle occur.

He was a warrior. Not, perhaps, a SOLDIER -- that dream had died long ago. But, at his soul, he was a man who fought to the end, who would live and die by the sword. And _that_ was the part that enraged him. Cloud knew well enough that, once at this stage, the disease let no one from its grip. It sapped the energy away until there was nothing left, body rotting even before it was dead. It was pathetic and humiliating to him that despite all his battles and famous strength, he was destined to die complacent in a bed. From _disease._

Murderously, he stared at anything but her. His eyes fell on First Tsurugi, the sword which not long before now had killed Sephiroth, or, at least, Kadaj. The sword that had won so many battles, whether it be against humans or monsters. What use was it now? A sword was useless for fighting infection.

Frustration gripped him. He squeezed his fists, in an unconscious move to relieve stress, and his nails dug into his palm. His arm shook with the simple strain, something he wouldn't have felt before even had he clenched his nails _through_ his hand. He'd had strength and mako before, after all. But when the stigma came, it took all life back to the Lifestream. Including mako.

Geostigma.

After the second fall of Sephiroth, and Aeris' subsequent healing of so many people, they'd thought it was over. They'd thought that peace would come. But the planet was too tainted by Jenova, too infected. The contaminated Lifestream recoiled against itself inside the form of every living thing, causing a destructive sequence that leeched the life back in an attempt to remove the pathogen. It had only been humans with the disease at first, due to the significant amount of energy they contained in comparison to other life forms. SOLDIERs had been infected first, obviously, because of the mako. But the taint had grown, and now everything was dying. No one could trust the food they ate, because the life energy they gained from it might be tainted. It was how the stigma spread, faster and faster.

The Planet was failing. Thousands of people were already dead. And, for once, Cloud couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Last he'd heard, Reno had died from it. The man was annoying, but he'd been a friend. The loss had hit them all hard.

Denzel had the disease again, too. It wasn't too bad, yet...but...

It was easy to identify Geostigma, after all.

His eyes glittered darkly.

Tifa, as if sensing his global animosity, attempted to soothe him. "You told me that Aerith said things would get better." She offered uncomfortably. Her hand moved to his constricted fist.

"...She said that _before_ the Planet got sick." Cloud muttered back at her. The frustration welled like blood at a wound, and harshly, he bit out another remark. "You should stop dreaming. We both know that no one survives the stigma." He looked away, abruptly. Guilt pricked at him. He had no right to take away her hope.

Something wet dropped onto his arm. Tifa clutched at his hand waveringly. Cloud looked back at her, and she was crying, silent tears bleeding from her eyes. His features softened.

"I'm sorry." She sniffed slightly. "I just don't want to think, I guess, that you're...." The girl shuddered, like a sob that convulsed her body. The word she'd not said hung in the air, unvoiced but clear.

Tifa was a strong girl. She always fought, even against things she couldn't hope to defeat. And he'd made her cry.

He guessed the melancholy was getting to everyone. "It's not your fault." He said shortly, voice carefully devoid of emotion.

The martial artist withdrew her hand, wiping it across her face to clear the moisture. No more tears fell, and she blinked resolutely against the possibility. "I know." There was a pause, full of silence and regret. "I just wish there was something I could do."

He didn't answer. Tifa sighed.

Cloud closed his eyes. More than simple lack of sleep, he felt entirely sapped of energy, a terrible slackness in his muscles, a weakness that disallowed movement. Anything but the simplest functions, talking, eating, swallowing, was impossible. Every movement cost him too much strength.

It was so far from the abundant, limitless energy he'd had before. Weakness only felt worse because of it.

He'd had the stigma for six months, now. A week ago was when he was no longer capable of walking, and was confined to bed. It was a slow, agonizing way to die. As if his soul was being eaten away, as if he was dead despite being still alive. Everything was difficult to achieve at this point in illness. Movement was his most straining trial, even speech, but he could conceal it well enough. Cloud knew, instinctively, that he must not have much longer to live.

Cloud sighed. He felt...so tired....

Exhaustion cloaking his entire being, he drifted into sleep, breath settling from the conscious pain of Geostigma.

Tifa watched, saddened, and moved to her own bed, assembled on the floor.

If she'd known, she would have stayed longer, but ignorance was a terrible thing.

The next day, when she woke, Cloud Strife would be dead.

xxxx

He was drifting, caught in the Lifestream.

Cloud had been here before, it was easy to recognize, but....

It was different. More than being _present_ in the Lifestream, it felt as though he were flowing _with_ it. And there was a curious lack of the pain that had plagued him those long months, a strange peace pervading his senses that he'd not known for years.

He knew, almost immediately.

So, he was dead.

The thought was strangely simple, with little other clouding it. He didn't really have an opinion on his new state of being. He wasn't sure what to think.

_Is Aerith here?_ This thought, however, was something else entirely. Unexpected, it surprised him thought he'd been the one to think it. And then there was another question, more precedented. _Is Zack?_

_"...Cloud."_ The voice came as an answer. It was familiar, but clouded with the presence of a thousand million others. He twisted as his own solitary part of the stream, thrashing agitatedly.

"Aerith?"

_"....Yes. No."_ She contradicted herself. _"Maybe."_

He was unable to make sense of her comment, and concentrated on her. Where was she?

And then he understood. Aerith was part of a huge interlinked entity, more compact than the stream. Almost another sector, guiding the entire flow of life. She wasn't really Aerith, not anymore. She was a spark of entity, of individuality, caught among the tide of her people. She _was_ the Lifestream, she and the other Cetra. It explained her answer, and the strange quality of a thousand voices she spoke with.

"...Is Zack here?" He questioned, reaching for that spark of Aerith that glowed among them all. It was familiar, comforting. Almost like her own presence was.

_"No."_ The Cetra answered, with that vague sense of Aerith pervading them, lending a tone of sadness. Apology. _"All but Cetra lose themselves in the Lifestream. They remain for a few years, but dissolve. Nothing but energy."_

Cloud's mind was set in mild distress. If this was death, could he not even spend it with the people he had waited so long to see? "...Will that happen to me?"

_"No. You will remain."_ The voice was more distant now. Less Aerith, more like an entirety.

And that was even worse. Would he stay forever, with souls fading around him? An eternity of existing, dead, with no one who lingered behind? "Why? I'm no Cetra."

The answer did not come in words. Apparently withdrawn into a mechanical sense of instinct, the Cetra spoke through the Lifestream in primitive images, feelings, and indications that conveyed their meaning. The huge presence was dizzying, and it took him a moment to process their message. He was presented with the image of Ultimate WEAPON, the dark draconian being who seemed torn between fight or flight. Something about his purpose. _Renewal. Last resort. Protect._ They tried to tell him. _Purpose. Last resort._

Ultimate WEAPON was a last resort. He could understand that. But he knew very well that Ultimate WEAPON was dead.

His thought apparently provoked the next plethora of Cetra communication. They projected the powerful sense of fear and desperation that they felt now, with their Planet dying and no last resort to turn to. _Convert. Create._ They told him. More images, vague feelings, and the disjointed speech explained them. When a WEAPON was killed, it was systematic to generate a replacement from a new presence in the Lifestream. But they'd found that no single soul had the raw power to be converted in such a way. And it had to be a single soul. More than one present in a creature would completely disrupt it. _Need. Dying. Last resort._ They told him. They repeated the desperation of having nothing to turn to, and their purpose of converting a new WEAPON.

And he understood. "Please tell me you're joking."

But, obviously, the Lifestream didn't joke. It literally had no sense of humor.

"No." He growled the word out. It wasn't fair at all that he fight so much and have such a difficult life with no solace at the end. "I don't want any more of it!" He denied this sentence with everything within him, every individual thought and feeling that they'd allowed him to retain.

But then Aerith spoke, more predominant in the crowd than ever. _"I'm sorry, Cloud, you've already changed."_

And that was it.

Too late.

The anger he felt was terrible, a horrible tainted despair. He was tired of trial and thought. Right now, nonentity seemed a welcome thing in comparison to being a WEAPON of the Planet.

The Cetra, partially guided by Aerith, hastened to inform him of something, a thousand meanings and messages interlocked into a single intent. They attempted to instruct him of his duty as the last resort, what he was called upon to do.

Omega WEAPON was their primary option of defence -- migration to another planet. He would gather the Lifestream and move it elsewhere, away from the threat that existed on the planet. Of course, they could make him the new Omega WEAPON, and have him evacuate them. But, in this case, it wasn't a possibility, because the Lifestream itself was tainted. Moving it somewhere else would only serve to contaminate that place, as well, and slowly the Lifestream would be dirty beyond salvation.

And that was why they made him Ultimate WEAPON. There was a reason why that particular one had to be powerful. The last resort would only be initiated if Omega WEAPON was somehow unsuitable. Creation of Omega was easy, any soul could be converted. But Ultimate had to be powerful enough to survive the necessity of the last resort. If the Lifestream could not be saved, then Ultimate would reverse to a time when it was safe and eliminate the threat. Before, Ultimate had not acted because the Lifestream was unsure whether or not it would survive evacuation by Omega.

His 'purpose' fell on him like an avalanche. Like a rockslide. Like the cascade of a tsunami.

The Planet wanted him to go back.

The Lifestream urged him on, pulling on the instinctive function that he'd been converted to. Separately, Aerith spoke to him, urging with a more personal reason for conceding. _"You can save us. You can have another chance."_

Her strange pseudo-whispers stabbed at his mind. A shock, a disbelief. Could he really go back? Did he even want to? There was the possibility of it all going wrong again, he knew. But also...there was a chance that it _wouldn't._

There was a brief inkling of positive response in his mind, the slightest tiny acceptance, and the Cetra gave a great _tug_ on the urge of his purpose. For a moment, he felt an unbelievable pressure, like pain, like a Limit Break, more powerful than anything.

And, like a Limit Break, it released itself, and Cloud Strife rewrote the world.

xxxx

The shift was possibly the worst and most horrible thing he'd ever experienced. In the moment of that surge of power, his Limit Break let loose, and he lost himself in a dizzying sensation of pressure and disorientation. As if he were caught off the ground in a hurricane, it felt as if he were being assaulted mercilessly by some enraged storm, and there was no defence against it.

Cloud was allowed one second, the pause between the storm and the flood, where nothing happened. An interlude that ended too soon. And then the memories began.

They weren't his. More, they were the recollections of Ultimate, with all his awakenings to defend the planet, and even of the man he'd been before he converted. The focus was on his abilities, his battles, his power. How he'd adapted to being what he was. And, of course, his experience with the Last Resort. It had occurred centuries ago, nothing that anyone had heard of in this today, but Cloud felt this other man's emotions as powerfully as he felt his own. Ultimate had been an entity like a natural disaster, ruthless to all in his path, but would divert that route on the smallest whim. He was like a cold star, glittering with age-old brilliance. And there was his rage, his humiliation, in being defeated by a mere child who had not even seen his third decade.

While certainly intense, Ultimate's memories were vague and hazy, like the impressions of childhood. It could not be remembered nearly so well as recent things, especially considering the immense amount of time that Ultimate had been alive. Worse by far than the first assault, even if it was of significantly less magnitude, were his own memories.

For those moments of hell, Cloud relived every moment of joy, anger, sadness, victory, and defeat. He won all his battles and lost all his wars. Zack died again. Aerith was impaled on the long blade of Masamune. Reno was felled from the disease. Everything died. It was like a hundred emotional breakdowns all at once, with all the pain and overwhelming sorrow and regret of his mistakes. And it was more terrible than any individual bad memory, because it was _all_ of them, at the same time.

Unable to hold back the onslaught, Cloud screamed.

In that instant, it stopped, its job finished, and the new WEAPON of the world was left disoriented on a cold ground.

"Cloud!" A voice exclaimed worriedly. Bewildered, and breathing heavily, Cloud inspected his surroundings with wide eyes.

He saw three people, familiar to him. They were young, younger than the last time he'd seen them. His roommates, while he was training as a SOLDIER cadet.

His old dorm, with two bunk beds and a thick glass window. Night, darkness in a world that was _alive._

Cloud mused briefly that he must have fallen from his place on the top bunk. They'd obviously been sleeping, judging by the collective uniform of pyjamas.

His next thought, staring blankly at his old comrades, was that _it had worked._

The sheer magnitude of that simple mental acknowledgement was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

Cloud passed out instantly.

xxxx

Zack Fair was extremely bored. This was understandable, considering his status as a 1st class SOLDIER and his current position of Cadet Facility Patrol.

Seriously, this was grunt work!

Being friends with the general had its downfalls. It meant that he could give you crappy jobs if you annoyed him. As it was, Sephiroth had apparently not appreciated his helpful suggestion that he should get laid, and that there were plenty of 3rd class SOLDIERS who certainly wouldn't say no.

It was true, at any rate. Seph needed to find himself a sense of humor that didn't involve assigning him to babysitting cadets.

If Cloud was any example, they could take care of themselves. But, then again, patrolling was more to make sure that they weren't sneaking out for whatever reason. He sort of hoped that someone would, just so something interesting would happen. Or, better, Cloud could sneak out, and Zack could take him along to complain about Sephiroth.

Maybe his latter wish hadn't been granted, but judging by the rather loud footsteps clattering in his direction, something was about to happen.

Interestedly, Zack peered down the dark corridor with his mako-enhanced sight, knowing that his eyes would likely be glowing very brightly in this kind of darkness. It served as a homing beacon, so any miscreant cadets would know of the presence of a rather strong SOLDIER.

Indeed, it_ was_ a miscreant cadet, two of them, complete with that just-woke-up appearence and pyjamas marked with their dorm number. 49. Huh. Wasn't that Cloud's dorm?

Strangely, they didn't stop or seem scared by his obvious being there. Rather, their faces adopted a look of relief upon seeing him, and they sprinted in his direction. The two stopped, panting, in front of him.

"Hey, boys, there _is_ a curfew, you know." He reprimanded. "What are you doing out of your rooms?"

"Jonas told us to go find someone while he stayed there!" One gasped out between breaths.

"You've got to help us, sir!" The other added, looking up agitatedly.

Suitably worried, Zack bent, looking them in the eyes. "What's the problem?"

"It's Cloud!" The first exclaimed. "He-"

"Cloud?" Zack's eyes widened, concern rushing through him. "What happened to Cloud?"

"He..." The second hesitated, before explaining. "He just...randomly screamed, sir. Loudly. It woke us up. And then he started thrashing about and fell off his bunk."

"We thought he might be having a nightmare," The first inputted. "So we went to wake him up, but he was awake already. He just _looked_ at us, and then passed out. We can't wake him up!"

"Cloud's a really light sleeper, sir." The second informed worriedly. "We think he might have hit his head, or something. So we came looking for someone."

"Good boys." Zack praised, face inordinately serious. "Hold on tight." The two were met with confusion at his instruction, that is, until he hauled them up, one over each shoulder, and _ran._ Even weighed down by two fourteen-year-olds, he was easily strong enough to run much faster than they ever could have. Zack knew the way to Cloud's dorm, because the boy could often be found there brooding, and headed there at top speed. It wasn't long, shorter than three minutes, before they reached the door. Zack released the cadets and immediately barged in.

Cloud was there, passed out on the floor, with a dorm-mate (presumably Jonas) hunched over him. At the abrupt noise, he looked up. "Sir!" He greeted, relieved. "Thank you for coming."

"No problem." Zack kneeled instantly beside his little blond friend, and slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Hey. Spike. Wake up." Upon receiving no response, he looked to the other three cadets. "Have you tried whistling in his ear?"

Cadet 1 nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Setting off your alarm clocks?"

Cadet 2 nodded. "Nothing happened."

"Cold water?"

Jonas nodded. "I tried that. Twice. It didn't work."

"Hanging him upside down?" Zack answered his own question at the disbelieving looks the cadets gave him. "Yeah, I suppose you're not strong enough for that. Well, when all else fails..." He hauled Cloud up by his feet, elevating the boy to eye level, and flopped him around a little. "Oi. Cloud. Wake up or I drop you."

When he received no response, Zack sighed, and settled the boy normally in his arms. "That normally works, but...I guess I have to take him to the infirmary. Thanks, boys." He paused. "You said he looked at you, then suddenly passed out? Just like that?"

"Just like that." Cadet 1 agreed. He looked unsure. "But...there was something strange..."

"Yes?" Zack prompted.

Jonas was the one to answer. "When he looked at us, his eyes were...strange. They were _really_ bright. Glowing." He looked at Zack strangely. "Kind of like yours, but brighter. And then he passed out."

....and _that_ was suspicious. Because there was no way in hell that Cloud could have mako eyes. He'd never been exposed to mako before in his life. And brighter than _his_ eyes, a 1st class SOLDIER's, suggested an impossible amount of mako. Not sure what to make of that latest bit of information, Zack nodded gravely, and stepped out of the room.

Concern wavered in his mind all the fast-paced way to the infirmary.

xxxx

He wasn't quite sure what he was submerged in. It was soft, dark, and heavy. It felt like sleep, but his rest was never so deep. All he could comprehend was the ghost of a memory. He had a purpose. there was something to do.

The thought tugged at his consciousness, and suddenly the blackness was just that little bit less opaque.

There was something he had to do. Something important.

It was an acknowledgement on a deep level of his psyche. Such things woke him all the time. He'd be asleep, and then remember that Sephiroth was still out there, and would wake unable to rest. So, almost like that, the nagging sense of purpose pulled him, like being towed through water, to the ground again.

Cloud opened his eyes.

He had a brief moment of confusion. Where was he? What was he doing here?

It passed quickly, and a flood of memories reminded him of what he had to do. _Purpose. Heal. Return._ The feelings it brought were overwhelming, because he _knew_ that this was the Cadet's infirmary, and he _knew_ that he was in the past, before all the disasters that had ripped his mind and soul apart. Before the sickness, before death, before insanity. And there was overpowering, thick lostness that clung to him, because _he_ was supposed to be the one to stop all things. The responsibility was like suffocation, because he was deathly afraid of the results of his failure.

He knew, though, that there was no one else to do it. He was the only one with knowledge of what had to change. He was a WEAPON, and every weapon must be wielded. This was his purpose, and that scared him so deeply that Cloud wondered if he'd ever be able to get up and move forward. He felt heavy, frozen with the cold weight of an entirely different kind of anguish. He felt stiff and unmovable.

But then there were _words, _a voice so terribly _familiar_ that, for a moment, everything stood still.

_If you want to be a hero, you have to have dreams._

"Oh, hey, you're awake!" The voice exclaimed. "Seriously, you slept for_, _like, twelve hours! You never sleep that much! We were getting pretty worried."

_Hey, I've become a hero, right?_

Cloud looked over with wide eyes. He felt a deep tension, as if what he saw next would shake the foundations of his world.

And, _by the Planet,_ it did.

Black hair, like a dark mane. Blue, mako-enhanced eyes, thought not quite so luminous as after Hojo's experiments. The smile that he wore in the face of everything, even as he died, passing on his dreams.

_My pride, my dreams....they're yours now._

_You are the proof that I existed._

"Hey, Spike, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Cloud barely heard the words, he was so caught in his shocked numbness. Because this was _his friend, _the man who'd both made and broken him, the hero who had _died._

Nothing, no knowledge in the world, could have ever prepared him for this.

"....Zack." The word slipped from him in a whisper, and it was like life and death because he'd seen both, and they revolved again in front of his eyes.

The SOLDIER grinned, as if he hadn't seen Nibelheim burn. As if he hadn't struggled through four tortuous years of mako and pain, as if he hadn't rescued them both. As if he'd never died in battle, defending Cloud with all the blood that spilled from his wounds. "Yeah, that's me!" His face was so cheerful, he really had no idea. None of it had ever happened to him. It was a truth that comforted Cloud, but also saddened him. Because Zack had never seen the terrible things that brought a shadow to his face, even when he was smiling. Because, even though this Zack was happier, he didn't have those memories of hardship that had made them so close.

Cloud reached out, waveringly, and touched the skin of the man's wrist. It was very real, very tangible. This was no dream. It dawned on him, more powerful than a tidal wave crashing over the horizon, and a dizzying rush of grief and remembered despair jolted through his veins. He clutched, tightly, at his friend's arm, gripping as though he were his last lifeline. "_Zack."_

Ocean blue eyes blinked, puzzled and not just a little worried. "...Yeah. Is something wrong? Does your head hurt?"

In that moment, every wall that Cloud had built around himself had no significance. All the barriers, all the cold of an empty fortress, it shattered, and he was left defenceless and exposed in the rubble. For the first time in years, he conceded to the bittersweet grip of emotion. He reached out his other hand, gripping Zack's arm more tightly than ever. He hunched, and curled himself into a small, vulnerable shape on the bed, silent tears spilling down his face.

Of course, Zack had no idea what was afflicting his friend, and the concern moved him immediately. Zack drew the blond cadet to him with both arms, enveloping him in a comforting hug. "...Hey. What's wrong?"

He received no response, and Cloud clutched, shaking, to the SOLDIER. He was deeply worried now. Cloud never cried. He never broke down in such a way. It just didn't happen. The kid had always been so reclusive, you had to prod him forever before he showed you what he was thinking. Zack had never expected to see the boy in any sort of emotional breakdown. He looked _vulnerable_, more lost and sad than anything he'd seen, and it inspired an intense wave of protectiveness in him.

It was, for Cloud, the most intensely emotional experience he'd had for years. It was like reunion, but so much more. So much _worse._

The doctors in the infirmary, respecting their privacy, made no appearance that day. They were not seen in the quiet moments that Cloud weeped, and Zack tried to comfort him for something he did not understand. Perhaps they were watching, but kept to the silent shadows as the emotional exhaustion, not long after Cloud's initial awakening, tempted him into sleep again. When the crying stopped and the breathing evened, Zack carefully lowered his friend onto the bed, replacing the covers and dabbed away the tears with a gloved hand. He shuffled, back to his chair beside the bed, rather than the perch he'd held on its side in the last thirty or so minutes.

Only then did a doctor emerge, stepping quietly into the mild shadows. The day was darkening outside, and no one had switched on the lights yet. The SOLDIER's eyes glowed blue in the darkness as he looked over to the nurse.

"Is he asleep?" She asked, voice a low whisper.

Zack nodded slowly. "...Yeah. I wish I knew what was wrong with the poor guy." He looked sharply over at her. "Your scanners pick up anything?"

"Nothing abnormal." She shook her head. "There's not even a logical reason he'd pass out like he did. There was no impact damage, not even built up physical exhaustion. It's just normal sleep."

"No sign of the mako eyes, which is something to be thankful for, I guess." Zack raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what those kids saw, but they can't have been right."

"There's no trace of Mako in his system." She confirmed. "...It worries me, though. I've had him in here before, for training accidents, and he seems such a strong boy. Is there nothing that could have brought this on?"

"Nothing I know of." He sighed. "There's literally no reason he'd suddenly break down like that. He looked at me, and it was like I was dead, or something."

"Maybe he had a nightmare." She commented thoughtfully. "I really don't know."

"Neither do I." Zack eyed his friend, oddly subdued. "But...for now...I don't want to leave him. He's got me worried, and as a 1st class I don't get many missions. It should be fine if I stay for a while."

"Good idea." She agreed. "I'll have someone bring you up a sandwich."

"Thanks." Zack grinned as the nurse left the room.

xxxxxx

So, chapter one. Hopefully no one has given up on it at this point. :D Please review. Thanks and constructive criticism are all very welcome...plus, they inspire me. :D Hopefully, the impression you' ve got from this chapter is that there will be lots of drama and emotional stuff. In one way in particular, this story will be different from the others like it, but that will be revealed later. At this point, I have four chapters already written, so hopefully until at least then there shouldn't be any huge delays in updates.


	2. No Words

So...second instalment. :D Enjoy. Hopefully.

xxxxxx

When Cloud woke for the second time, it was clearer. He felt worn out in a strange way, like he'd slept for days but was still tired. The difficulty to move was familiar to him, too familiar, but when he rolled up the sleeve of his hospital gown, the skin was not decaying like it had been before he died. He felt _small_, and the lack of energy was a natural kind that he hadn't known since before the mako.

He didn't feel numb like he had before. Then, the overwhelming emotion had staggered him into a breakdown. Instead, now, it was as if he were trapped in a dream. Everything seemed unreal, and Cloud had to touch his sheets to make sure that they actually existed. He knew, obviously, that it _was_ real, but it didn't feel it.

Cloud glanced around the room. Was there anyone near? Apparently, yes. Zack was slumped in a chair beside his bed, staring absently into space. The sight of him, young and unburdened, sent a pang through his heart. The man he'd screamed over upon his death, the man who he'd cried for only in his last bout of consciousness. It was strange, to think that he'd actually cried. Such displays of emotion had been long unknown to him, and he felt a twinge of instinctive shame at toppling so easily in the face of a challenge. Zack wouldn't mind, he knew. Zack had always encouraged emotional expression.

He looked sideways at the man, and the sight of him sent a pang through his heart. Zack...he'd been missed. _I never forgot._ Cloud promised silently, eyes fixed on his friend. Then he spoke. "...Zack." He murmured, and instantly the SOLDIER broke from his reverie, surprised.

"Oh, hey, you're awake again!" He exclaimed, a smile stretching across his face. "You feel okay?"

Cloud blinked slowly. It was a good question. "...Not sure. I feel kind of....weak and tired, I guess."

"Tired?" Zack snickered. "You just woke up from a fifteen hour sleep. How can you still be tired?"

"I don't know." Cloud replied absently. It was so difficult to even speak, talking, as if things were normal. As if he'd never died. The dream-sense was fading, and he was left with the cold truth of reality. "How much training have I missed?"

"One day." Zack grinned. "Are you going to get up, or are you gonna make that two days?"

Cloud smile wryly, and sat up. He was moving perfectly normally, nothing hurt. But he felt powerless, as if he were reduced to the level of a civilian. He supposed it was the Mako. It changed everything, after all. Mako enhanced your strength, speed, healing...everything. Not only that, but it enhanced your growth in those areas, so you got stronger faster as well. Whatever it was, the weakness was infuriating.

"What's the time?" if he remembered correctly, cadet training started at 6:30, and cadets were required to be awake by 6:00 to get ready.

"Uh." Zack checked a clock that was apparently on a wall. He couldn't see it from here. "Four fifteen. AM."

He had time, then. The urge to get rid of his terrible weakness was almost like an instinct. He supposed it might be. After all, he _was_ a WEAPON. Maybe the Planet installed instincts as a drive for strength.

Cloud got to his feet abruptly, looking around for his clothes.

"Hey, where are you going?" Zack raised an eyebrow.

"Training." Cloud replied distractedly, scanning the room.

His eyes fell upon a familiar outfit. Something he hadn't worn for ages. Neck warmer, shoulder plates, navy jumper, belt, baggy trousers, knee plate things. The sight of it sent a wave of nostalgia through him. He remembered wearing those before, when he was young. When he wasn't dead inside. He wanted his old (or was it new?) suit back. It suited him more. This clothing was for a cadet, not a killer.

Still, it was his, and it wasn't as if there was anything else to wear. Cloud gripped the uniform from the pegs, and retreated to his bed hastily.

"Training?" Zack repeated doubtfully. "Spike, you just woke up. And I'll bet the nurses want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." Cloud returned irritably, crawling out of his hospital gown shamelessly. They'd left him his underwear, after all, and among SOLDIER it was decidedly frequent to change one's clothes in front of your comrades. Besides, there was a familiarity with Zack, even if it wasn't the one he'd seen die. They'd gone through their lives together, and had fallen into a routine. Now, it was strangely easy to resume the attitude of that routine, though everything was different. Being best friends, they'd had no secrets.

Zack said nothing about Cloud's lack of typical teenage modesty, for which he was thankful. Cloud hadn't remembered that it might be considered out of the ordinary until he was half naked.

"I'll come with you. There's no need to risk you collapsing, after all." Zack announced, getting to his feet. "All the nurses are asleep."

"Thank Gaia." Cloud muttered. "The last thing we need is them getting in the way." Zack laughed as his blond friend got up, now in full uniform. Cloud pulled on his neck warmer experimentally. It felt familiar in a far-off way, but he'd not worn anything of the sort for years. He glanced at Zack. "Well? You coming?"

The SOLDIER smirked in reply. "Yeah. 'Course. Which training room are we going to?"

Cloud paused, and thought over his options. Practicing sword skills was obviously fruitless, considering he didn't even have a sword at this time. First Tsurugi was in another time. Going through general martial art styles was also out of the question, because it wouldn't do to display knowledge of high-level techniques to anyone who might get suspicious. His best choice, especially considering the infuriating and unfamiliar weakness he felt, was to build up physical strength. "...E4." Cloud decided. Apparently, an advantage of the memory rush that going back in time bought was his recollection of things that had happened years ago. It was easy to remember the names of the rooms, of the cadets, where to find everything...while certainly traumatic, the reminder was useful.

Zack grinned. "Want a lift there?"

Cloud glared. Zack's idea of 'a lift' involved hauling poor defenceless cadets over his shoulder and running like a madman to their destination. "....No."

The man mock-pouted, but quickly abandoned his ploy as Cloud abruptly left the room.

Upon seeing the facility corridors, Cloud felt a brief moment of disorientation. Where was he? It cleared almost instantly, and it took a quick calculation to remember the route to the fourth exercise room. The furthest away from his current position.

Cloud ran. Running, obviously, was a part of his training, and even if running as little as this was would do little to nothing, when running at the fastest sprint he could muster, it was a good exercise.

Zack kept pace easily beside him, and the new Ultimate was left infuriated at his abnormal slowness. Mako became a part of you, with all its unnatural strength. To have it suddenly gone was the strangest thing he'd ever felt. Mako had a definable feel like a minute current of electricity, adrenaline on a different level. It felt completely unnatural to be without that current. The experiments that had given him his Mako had been indescribable torture, to be sure, but Cloud couldn't help but feel envious of the man running by his side, with that current no doubt pulsing strong in his veins.

By the time he reached the room and slammed on its lights, Cloud was out of breath. But he refused to acknowledge that. He attempted to not notice Zack settling on a bench curiously, and quickly dropped to a contraption which provided impressively weighted sit-ups.

Thirty sit-ups in, and Cloud's muscles were burning with exertion. No doubt this body had had physical conditioning, but nothing so rigorous with weights so heavy before. The weakness of his form was like a slap in the face, like the helplessness of Geostigma all over again. The feeling of being so weak you couldn't do anything, though you knew that if you had your strength, you'd be capable of so much more. He needed to reach that strength again. Relentlessly, he struggled against the weights.

"Hey, Cloud, don't push yourself too hard." Zack called from his bench. Cloud flinched, and continued his exercising with new determination. Zack's voice was still painful to listen to, because it was the same voice that had spoken those dying words, the words that changed him forever. He had to be stronger, to prevent that.

_...On my behalf..._

_...you will..._

_...Live._

Cloud forced himself to think of something else. He didn't want to remember Zack dying. He was _alive_ now, alive and so unharmed by the terrible world. He'd never let Zack die, not again.

He didn't concede to the strain of his muscles. There was no alternative. He had to be strong. But it was a pain now; he was perhaps pushing this fragile body past its limits. He breathed, and it was too fast. He had a stitch and the muscle pain was unbearable. Overcome by weakness and shame, Cloud fell slack in the chair, scowling exhaustedly into the lights.

Instantly, Zack was by his side. "That was stupid," He reprimanded. "You should know not to push yourself so far. You should know your limits."

Cloud gritted his teeth. "It doesn't matter." He growled. "I have to train. I have to get stronger. I can _never_ stop!" He felt humiliated. Weakness was his most hated foe, the worst adversary. Something that he couldn't beat with his sword.

Cautiously, Zack rested his palm on the blonde's shoulder. "...Cloud. What's wrong?"

The boy didn't reply for a while, simply inhaling his breath with a shudder of exhaustion. He lowered his head, spikes of hair casting shadow on his face. "...I'm too weak." He muttered.

"Cloud, you're a cadet." Zack sighed. "No one expects you to save the world."

...he almost felt like laughing. He was overcome by the irony. Zack was incorrect; the Planet itself had entrusted him with the task of protecting it. "...I have to train, Zack." Cloud insisted, and drew himself up. "Please, let me be."

Zack stepped back, and watched his friend with concern as he worked himself just as hard as before.

Something was wrong with Cloud. First he collapses, then he cries, and now he trains like never before.

But there was nothing to do, really. Nothing but watch, and hope that his friend would be okay.

xxxx

In one hour and thirty minutes, Cloud was meritably exhausted. But, as always, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring his aching limbs and dragging himself to the doorway.

"Hey, where're you going now?" Zack was, naturally, on his case in a second.

"Showers." Cloud grumbled. "And then, to daily training." He prepared to haul himself all the way to the room 49 showers, naturally was not expecting to suddenly be captured by none other than his best friend. "Zack!" He squawked indignantly, from his new position over the man's shoulder.

He laughed, and flashed Cloud a grin. "You'll never get there in time to have a shower, not with how hard you trained."

To be honest, Cloud couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. The action was so purely _Zack_ that he could never dispute it, not with how much he'd missed every detail of his heroic friend. He merely watched the dark halls flash by wishing that he could still move that fast, and attempting to distract himself from the chaotic swirl of emotion buried just beneath the surface.

Upon arrival, Zack dumped the blond cadet easily on the floor. Cloud glowered half-heartedly at the man. "....Thanks, I guess." He conceded.

Zack grinned brightly, and Cloud wondered if all those things about the man would ever stop making his heart ache. "No problem! See you later, Spike!" He turned, swiftly, and prepared to leave. "Don't pass out again!" Cloud looked over, alarmed, as the SOLDIER made his exit. He had to restrain himself from reaching out, from stopping him, because watching Zack sprint away was too much like the time he'd walked away to die. Cloud had reached out then, too, caught in the haze of Mako Poisoning, feeling a deep instinct that knew that he couldn't let Zack go. But he'd been too late, too weak, and his best friend had died in his name.

Cloud watched Zack go, and standing there stationary sent an aggrieved tide of shame through him. How could he let Zack go away to die?

Even as he stripped out of his clothes to the showers, Cloud was brooding, clutching onto his memories because they were too painful to forget.

How was he supposed to save the planet like this? Broken?

Cloud turned off the shower, even as someone fought against the lock to get in. He paid it no mind, quickly drying off with the towel and slipping into his uniform.

"Hey! Who's in there?" The voice was familiar, one of his roommates, no doubt. Cloud pulled the rest of his clothes on; feeling renewed by the water, and abruptly opened the door.

It was Mika who stood there, blinking in surprise with his dull eyes, chocolate-brown hair dishevelled and messy from sleep. "Cloud! When did you get out of the infirmary?" He received only a flat, dark look in response, and Cloud continued monotonously out of the bathroom, grabbing his rifle from its place on the wall.

"Cloud!" The other two, Jonas and Alex, exclaimed upon seeing him. To be honest, Cloud really couldn't care. They were young, naive, and immature. It was a painful reminder of how he'd once been, how he'd once fought for the dubious honour of mako injections and losing his humanity.

"What have we got first thing?" Cloud paused to ask. He couldn't remember such small details, after all.

"Theory." Alex responded automatically, and the let out a depressed sigh. "I hate theory."

"You hate everything." Jonas reminded.

"So?"

Abruptly, Cloud left the room. Their stupid, pointless little discussions were not something he wanted to listen to.

_Now...if I remember right...my unit has theory in room 32._ Cloud assessed his analysis, and found it to be accurate. He walked steadily, arms held stiff by his side. He was almost painfully worried about Zack. Of course, he knew that nothing dangerous happened in this timeframe, but now that he'd found his old friend again, it was difficult to let him go. He had to fight the inclination to go looking for him. He clenched his teeth, and determinedly headed fast-paced to his Theory room. It was fairly nearby in the training complex, and with Cloud's hurried steps he reached the room quickly, planting himself in the most familiar chair.

He was one of the first there, apparently. He rested his chin on his palm, elbow propped up on his desk. He allowed his mind to drift idly, carefully steering it away from dangerous thoughts via learned misdirection.

"Oi, Strife, I heard you were in the infirmary." One of the cadets commented casually, flicking his nearby friend on the ear and snickering at the complaint.

"...Yes." Cloud stared dispassionately at him until the faceless idiot grew uncomfortable and looked away. Cloud returned his attention to the front of the room, awaiting the instructor.

xxxx

"-Strife!"

"Hm?" Cloud broke himself out of thought at the instructor's word.

Instructor Bishop leered at him. "I asked you a question, Strife. It would do you well to pay attention in my class." The immature idiot cadets chuckled lightly around him.

"Sorry. Could you repeat the question, please?" Cloud answered politely.

The man's sneer grew deeper. "I asked you what points you would aim for when fighting a behemoth."

Well, that was easy enough. He'd fought enough of them to know. "Eyes, nose, and mouth." He replied. "Especially the mouth. If you can get a spell down its throat, it'll take a lot of damage."

Bishop stared suspiciously at him, but nodded in assent. "That's correct. Now, I will hand out a paper with various monsters listed, and you'll be required to note their weaknesses, and the strategy you would employ to fight them."

Cloud sighed at the paper at first glance. He'd fought countless monsters, and this was just boring. He wielded his pen, and inspected the first question.

_Dragon_

_Known weakness/es:_

_Strategy:_

After a quick assessment, Cloud scribbled in the answers.

_Dragon_

_Known weakness/es: Mouth, armpits, nose, mouth, eyes_

_Strategy: Dodge and evade until it's in range. If armed with a gun, shoot for the eyes, nose, and mouth. With some, it is possible to penetrate into the brain. If armed with a bladed weapon, evade until the dragon's armpits can be impaled. Furthermore, if fighting with a bladed weapon like a sword, aiming for the armpits may allow the combatant to stab the heart or other vital organs._

At least it was easy. But it was _so_ horrendously dull. He'd rather have anything but something this useless. He could be getting stronger, if not for this infernal lesson. Cloud sighed irritably, and wrote on.

Around him, his so-called compatriots were struggling. They didn't work with the single-minded dedication that he did, because they strived for childish dreams. It wasn't real. In Cloud's case, hard work wasn't an option. If he were to fulfil his mission, if he were to save his friends, then he had to be stronger. He had to become powerful. Without his mako and favourite sword, it would be difficult. Retraining himself in such a way was infuriating. Before, he'd taken all the strength as a new success, and now it was broken down and gone. He had to work up slowly....again.

Cloud put down his pen, having finished, and slumped boredly on his desk. He wondered what he would do. Obviously, he needed to get some mako in his system. He didn't feel right without it. But, to have mako, you traditionally had to be a SOLDIER. Of course, there were exceptions for Hojo's experiments, but he had no intention of being tortured under him again.

Maybe he could jump into a mako spring, or something. It wasn't as if mako poisoning were much of a worry to him, not anymore. Emotion and willpower -- that was the trick. He'd broken from the haze the first time in desperation to find Zack, because he _knew_ something bad had happened. Cloud had been just in time to watch him die.

"You're done?" Bishop snatched up the sheet abruptly, and Cloud jumped. He'd been so caught in his dark thoughts that he'd lost awareness.

Certainly, not a very smart thing to do. Ever.

"...Yes, sir." Cloud answered flatly, sparing a slight glance to watch the bemused expression on the instructor's face as he read.

"...These strategies would work." He conceded finally. "But the skill it would take, the speed for some of this...I'm afraid nothing less than a First-class would be able to do something like that."

Cloud smirked. If he knew of his indirect compliment, Bishop would likely have kept his mouth shut. "You didn't specify the skill of the combatants, sir."

"...Hm." Obviously displeased with his inability to find flaw, Bishop left with the paper, and Cloud fell monotonously back onto the desk.

This was so _dull..._

It was times like this that he wished Zack would show up, and make up some excuse to rescue him from this useless lesson. Scratch that, it was _all times_ that he wanted Zack around. Just to make sure he was still safe. Still alive.

Cloud resisted the temptation to bang his head on the table. _Lately, every thought I have turns depressing._ He mused irritably.

He really, really hated theory.

xxxx

Cloud was restless for the entire day. It wasn't something he was happy about at all, but he was unable to stop worrying about Zack. Obviously, he knew that the man could take care of himself, and there weren't any major threats around for the moment. Still, he couldn't suppress the desperation and fear. He'd just found his friend again, and it felt dangerous to let him out of his sight, where he couldn't do a thing. Cloud knew that he wouldn't be able to bear the loss of Zack again.

He clenched tightly on his materia. This class was better, but only as a test for his MP. He seemed to have a surprising amount for a normal cadet, from what he could tell.

The WEAPON attempted to shove the picture of Zack -- dead, bleeding in the ground -- firmly away from his mind. He failed, of course, and even the brief flicker of mako-blood and breaking memories was enough to make him lose control of the spell he was casting.

They were attempting a summons, very low level. Just a tiny frog or mouse, or something alike it.

Naturally, with his outburst, Cloud summoned something a bit more substantial. A glowing bird of fire, emerging from the magelight. He cursed, knowing that such things were beyond cadets, and gripped his materia tightly with stress.

And it broke.

Cloud stared in shock, first at the phoenix, and then at the glassy shards in his hand.

There was brief, stunned silence in the large room, with its steel walls and targets strewn everywhere. Someone's summon mouse squeaked in fright at the bird, diving for shelter. The phoenix craned its neck, peering at the runaway rodent. It looked as if it couldn't care less. Passively, it turned to stare at him with liquid, ice-blue eyes.

And then the materia instructor, Hades, decided to break the silence. Loudly. "Strife! What did you do?" He demanded.

Cloud blinked and kneeled before his summon, meeting its gaze unflinchingly. He could feel dozens of eyes on him. "...I had a stray thought, sir, which caused me to lose control of the spell. As a result, I appear to have summoned phoenix. And..." He glanced at the materia shards. "...I broke the materia."

Hades sauntered over thuggishly. He was mostly brawn, really. Cloud had no idea how an oaf like him could become a materia specialist. "...It is certainly impressive that you have enough MP to summon a high level creature such as phoenix, but you also made one of the_ basic _mistakes. Never break your materia while the spell is under way. This bird will remain with you for as long as it feels it is needed. Hopefully, with luck, it will go quickly."

"Yes, sir." Cloud offered his arm to the phoenix, which gave him an appraising look before inching its way to his shoulder, taking a perch there. It was practically radiating heat from its yellow-gold feathers.

"...well, considering you've managed to achieve a summon, perhaps you should take some other materia and practice the spells you know." Hades spoke reluctantly. "Come on, you layabouts! Get back to work!"

The class immediately broke back into movement, thawing from their moment of cold shock. Several heads turned as Cloud made his way to the materia bucket, but, as usual, he ignored them. He grasped two materia, and discreetly slipped one into his sleeve.

It would help to have ammunition, if any trouble came along.

Both were green materia, the ones he took. They were much more useful in the way of offence.

Cloud wondered distinctly what spell he should attempt. Fire? Ice? Lightning? With a quick moment of calculation, he decided on the last. Even if these materia weren't very good at hosting powerful spells, he could use low-level ones as a control exercise. Something quite common was to be careful enough that your materia could be used again. They never let you near high level materia in AVALANCHE unless you could do so.

The materia gloves were a personal preference, because sometimes the heat, electricity, or cold of the spell could be distinctly uncomfortable. People who didn't mind getting a bit cold/warm/zapped could simply use them as they were.

Besides, he had his own gloves on. No need for fancy materia gloves which had been used a thousand times before, and drenched in the sweat of various cadets before him. Ugh.

Cloud held out the materia, concentrated, and produced a Lightning. The jolt crackled successfully from his hand, and he directed it harshly to the target.

The thing about spells and materia was that they had a mind of their own. You had to know their attitude, and how to get them to agree with your intent. The reason cadets had so much trouble with spells, generally, was because they didn't understand what they were trying to do. Materia spellcasting consisted of three very important steps. First, you had to bridge the mental gap between you, your MP, and the materia -- something that traditionally was not easy the first few times, because you had no idea what you were looking for. With practice, it was the easiest part there was.

The second step consisted of drawing the spell out. And that was the part that required practice, a great deal of trial and error. Casting the spell was easy enough, stabilising it was not. You had to know the attitude of the spell, its personality, what reason you could give it to help you. Spells like Cure required a will to heal, a kindness and a hate of seeing others hurt. No wonder Aerith had been so good at those. On the other hand, spells like Fire and Lightning (and their relevant levels) were all about domination. Lightning was quick, proud, and wild. It was a spell that required a sharp mind, just as quick, to follow it and grab it like a fleeing snake. Once caught, it conceded to the greater authority. Of course, the higher the level the more ability it required, as well as MP.

Lightning and Fire were some of his favourites. He understood them more than the others. Lightning was wild, and had to be tamed. Fire could _not_ be tamed, it was anger and heat and destruction, but had a side to it which was complacent and warm. A fire could light a candle or burn down a forest. It could aid or destroy. It was this nature that gave Cloud an easy understanding of fire, because it was much like himself, in a way. He'd found it simple to use fire, because he could relate to its personality, its attitude. Sometimes, he would rage alongside it in a mental battle of wills, and subsequently would conquer it and bend it to his will. On the other hand, he could also appeal to the softer side, convince it that his actions would bring about the warmth that it secretly desired. Peace through power, in a way.

Another area of materia he was quite proficient in was 'element summoning', an odd variety of summon which summoned spells instead of creatures. Some of these were individual to him, because he'd discovered them by accident. Others, like Comet, were known as high power spells but not known as what they truly were. Due to Comet's destructive nature, it was very difficult to use with a green materia, but something Cloud had discovered himself was that it was far easier when used with a red materia. One secret which he'd never told, and avoided letting anyone see. His discoveries, somehow, had led him to have intensely powerful versions of this branch of magic as some of his Limit Breaks, Meteorain and Finishing Touch.

The second step, evidently, was no problem for him. At least, until he hit the higher levels of spells he couldn't understand as well. After that, thought, the third level was easiest, working with/dominating/helping the spell to its purpose. In this case, the target.

The Lightning hit a perfect bull's eye. In his hand, the materia was still glowing, full and powerful. To avoid suspicion, he quickly slipped it up his sleeve.

"Whoa, Cloud, how do you _do_ that?!" Someone exclaimed from beside him. After a brief moment of memory-scanning, he was identified as Mika. A mildly girly looking boy with a mildly girly name, and also one of his dormies. "Could you help me? I can't get it to work."

Cloud glanced at Hades, who was seated on a bench at the end of the long room, eyes occasionally flickering his way with interest. "Why don't you ask Hades?"

Mika made a face. "He only ever does anything if someone actually manages to get a result. Like with you. He thinks we're all failures and wouldn't spit on us if we were on fire."

Cloud inspected Hades again, and raised an eyebrow. Well, that seemed an accurate enough assessment...besides, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. "...Alright, I guess." He sighed. "You're still summoning, right? So, try the spell."

Mika beamed, face lighting up." Thanks, Cloud!" He abruptly switched his attention to the red materia in gloved hand, concentrating fiercely. The orb did absolutely nothing.

Cloud sighed. He was working from square one, so it seemed. He'd often been called upon to field-educate new recruits before, so it wasn't as if he didn't have experience with this. "Right. Obviously, you have no idea what you're doing." Mika glared at him half-heartedly, but didn't say anything. He knew the truth when he heard it, a welcome trait. "The first step of using a materia, any materia, is connecting to your MP. Until you know how to do it, that's the hardest step. It's something I can't help you with, because everyone does it differently. The best way is to meditate. You'll know when you find it." With that, Cloud returned to the vast barrel of materia, stealthily slipping one of each kind to join the green. He was thankful that the things were small enough.

Materia weren't nearly as good as First Tsurugi, but they would do.

xxxx

Understandably, Cloud's new phoenix escort earned many strange looks from the other cadet units as he entered the cafeteria. Cloud chose an empty table in the corner to settle down with his tray, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He'd forgotten how vile the cadet rations were. He glanced to the phoenix. "Hey. You want some?"

It gave him a flat stare. The look on its face plainly suggested its opinion.

"Understandable." The phoenix was quite good company, really. It didn't annoy him with irritating questions, it didn't stare idiotically at him, it didn't try to kill him....the list went on. He especially liked the warmth it gave off. It was strange to him, because such temperatures would normally have a person sweating their blood out, but all it did to him was provide an almost comforting blanket of heat. Perhaps it was his affinity to fire which endeared it to him.

Cloud inhaled his swine-worthy food. It was best to just swallow it and help it bypass the taste buds altogether. It was much easier to eat that way. Still, it wasn't as if he'd never had to eat disgusting food before. There was plenty of it in AVALANCHE runs.

The next hour was 'study' time, the period in which cadets were supposed to research theory and exchange information with each other. Of course, none of them did. They played cards, gambled, and in all acted like complete retards. How they expected to get into SOLDIER, he'd never know. Cloud got up, phoenix on shoulder, and deposited his tray on the cleaning rack. Without a word, he turned and left, eager to escape the searching eyes of the other cadets. One, who'd recently walked in, looked as if he wanted to confront Cloud on his summon, until he was taken aside by a friend to have the situation explained. Apparently, Cloud and Phoenix's combined glares gave off a very intimidating vibe.

He moved straight for a materia practice room. Unobserved, he wanted to test his power with higher level spells. His MP had always been large, even before the mako. After it, needless to say, he'd had near inexhaustible supplies.

Cloud noted with satisfaction and a little scorn that the materia barrel was left unattended. That was practically _asking_ for an enemy operative to burn your complex down. Or for some miscreant cadet to wreak havoc in the halls. Thankfully for them, Cloud was neither. Yet.

He glanced quickly around the room. Three cameras. Easy.

He took a green materia, grasped it firmly, and drew out a Bolt2 spell. After dominating its wild spirit, he stumbled and made a show of losing control of the spell, accidentally on purpose disabling all three cameras. Cloud allowed the spell to dissipate, knowing he was no longer watched. In the safety of seclusion, he pocketed a great deal more materia. Until he had a sword of some sort, they would be his greatest weapon.

Maybe Phoenix would help too.

Cloud was pleased to note that he didn't feel his stores depleted at all from the lightning attack. It was time, perhaps, to try a more challenging spell. He took a red materia, preparing for the elemental summoning spells that he'd never tried before in this life. Cloud took hold of his memories, closed his eyes, and reached for the spell.

With a great burst of power, a concentrated Comet2 devastated the surroundings.

Obviously, that took a great deal out of him, large MP or not. Cloud was frankly surprised that he _had_ managed it so easily, and still felt capable of more spells.

Phoenix made an odd, low croon. Apparently, it was impressed.

"I'm capable of a lot more than that." Cloud smirked at his summon, and a glitter of fire appeared in its eyes. He liked Phoenix. Its attitude was similar to his, perhaps why fire was both of their friends. "You're the firebird. Let's see what you think of my fire spells."

He took a green materia and reached for the fire. It came easily, _too_ easily. It put up little fight, as if it were born for him. Cloud felt the abnormality even before the spell sprawled from his hand. Spellfire, generally, was orange and yellow and red. This spell, intended as a Fire2, was a bright, blazing blue, flecked with ice and sparks of white. It gave off more heat than he'd ever seen in a spell coursing violently in a long stream to the impact zone of meteor, razing a deep hole of ash into the ground.

It was powerful fire indeed that burned the ground.

Phoenix trilled in amusement as Cloud stared. No Fire spell was hot enough to be blue. No Fire spell in existence was that strong, except maybe Phoenix Fire. Except he'd have known if the bird had anything to do with it.

"Holy Planet! Crap, Cloud, what the hell?"

Obviously, the added shock of hearing Zack's voice did not help him calm. Of course, no cadet could do a spell so powerful as to create such damage. Planet, nothing he'd ever seen could create that much damage with a spell, save Meteor. So, he needed an excuse. Cloud chose the first rational thing that came to mind. "Phoenix did it." He said immediately, and the bird looked around curiously.

Zack blinked, mako-eyes wide with surprise. "Yeah, I heard from Hades that you somehow managed to summon Phoenix!" He ambled over, grabbing Cloud in a one armed embrace and giving him a noogie. Phoenix chirped sharply, moving to Zack's head. Cloud, through the natural connection that summon and summoner share, understood the question. Phoenix was wondering if there was reason to take protective action.

Cloud sent a very large and very powerful surge of _no_ at the bird through the summon connection, alarmed at the thought of Phoenix being set loose on Zack. The firebird trilled in acceptance, and settled in Zack's mop of hair to observe the apparently amusing spectacle. Cloud gave up struggling, and waited for Zack to finish. Noogies, in general, never last long, so he was released soon enough. Rather than being annoyed, Cloud felt a comfortable sensation of warmth at the man's familiar antics. Still, he feigned an expression of indignation. "...My summon is sitting on your head." He stated plainly, not really having much else to say in face of the by-now common surge of emotion.

Zack lightly prodded the yellow bird, and chuckled. "So it is." He lifted the bird away, and it came easily. Zack held it in front of his face, assessing its flat blue stare, and promptly broke out into a cheerful grin. "Hey, this Phoenix is like you, Cloud! It has your angsty stare."

...He had to admit, the phoenix did tend to have similar expressions to him. Along with its blue eyes and yellow, scruffy feathers....yes, it might as well be the bird version of himself. This led him to wonder darkly if it had lost its best friend at some point, too. "Maybe that's why I summoned it when I lost control of the materia." Cloud shrugged, and retrieved his summon from Zack. "I was just testing its fire, and..." he gestured at the great crater of ashen ground, having burned directly through the three foot steel floor.

"I came looking for you when some guy from the observation room said you'd gone a bit crazy with lightning. I was worried you might have hurt yourself, so I come along straight to a blazing inferno!" Zack grinned. Cloud's heart ached with misleading pain, as if the life of the man in front of him were merely a dream that he would have to wake from. It was plain to him that it would be a long time, if ever, before Cloud came to terms with Zack's death.

Phoenix's warmth unexpectedly flared. It was a mystery to Cloud how he wasn't perspirating himself into dehydration, but he felt no sweatier than he normally would after a round of powerful spells. Zack blinked at the bird, rubbing his brow. "How can you stand that heat? It's boiling!" Zack complained, waving his hand around the heat levels of the Phoenix. Cloud was surprised to see that his hand came away looking a little red.

"...I'm not sure. I've never heard about summons giving immunity to their summoners." Cloud sent a sideways glance at the bird, its talons gripping the smooth metal of his shoulder guard. "It just feels warm."

"Huh. Strange." Zack eyes Phoenix suspiciously. "Well, it's great that you can summon Phoenix, even by accident! You must have a _lot _of MP."

Cloud shrugged uncomfortably. "I guess."

"Well, forget that! How've you been? Not been fainting at all?" Zack winked and nudged at Cloud. He stared at him, a feeling of loss pervading him. He shook it away, fiercely, because Zack was alive. _Alive._ Why was it so hard to comprehend that? The man was so hyper; it was difficult to believe that he was a First Class SOLDIER. Or, at least, it _had_ been, before Cloud got new experience and looked on the world with new eyes. Zack hung on to his cheer, and had a flamboyant charm that made it easy to get along with him. Even someone as antisocial as Cloud, who rarely replied to anything. It made Cloud feel guilty that he'd given so little in return for Zack's open friendship, and even now had few things to say. He didn't even understand _why_ Zack had been his best friend, and not someone else's. Even before Hojo's lab, he'd been more inclined to spend time with Cloud than others. Surely, among his vast crowd of friends and admirers, there was someone more likeable than himself?

The thought provoked a pang of envy, because Zack was _his_ best friend, and Cloud's deep-down selfishness didn't want to allow room for any others. He scolded himself -- of course Zack had the right to other friends. He should be thankful, not disbelieving, of how Zack seemed happy to put up with him. And he _was_ thankful, unbelievably so. Now that he was alive again, Cloud supposed that he'd established a sort of dependency on the man. He doubted he'd be able to walk away with his sanity intact if he died again, and he'd already experienced the unbearable anxiety of being away from him. Not to mention the alarming protectiveness. He only hoped it would subside; living with these empty feelings of mourning was not easy. They made him feel vulnerable and lost, and he longed to reach out to his friend. Of course, doing so would raise too many questions, and Cloud was cursed to saying nothing.

"...No." He answered finally, the weight of silence oppressing the comfort that Phoenix's warmth lent him.

Zack's expression shifted, settling into a somewhat concerned frown. His head tilted to the side a little. "...Hey. Are you sure you're alright? You look a little..." Zack trailed off, apparently unable to find a sufficient way to describe his observations.

"I'm fine, Zack." Cloud pondered on those words_. "I'm fine" _seemed to be the most notorious way of saying that you most certainly were not fine. Thankfully, it wasn't official, and in consequence few questions were raised.

"...if you're sure." Zack allowed reluctantly, an odd expression like helplessness or worry flickering in his eyes for a moment, before being hidden.

Cloud couldn't help but feel guilty for keeping secrets from Zack like this. It felt unnatural. In the future, they'd had a comfort between them because they never kept anything hidden. They could confide anything in each other. He felt filthy for desecrating that rapport, even if, perhaps, in this time it wasn't nearly so distinguished. Cloud wanted desperately to confide in his friend, but there was a fear that preserved the silence. What, exactly, _was_ he afraid of? What was that fear?

It took him a few silent seconds to discover the answer. He was afraid of what Zack would think; when he knew that his friend wasn't human. When he knew that this strange boy was not the one he knew. That, while he was indeed the same person, but he wasn't Cloud. He was a WEAPON, the Ultimate with his name Cloud Strife.

Zack was an accepting person. Cloud knew that well. But fear was irrational, it always was. And, no matter how utterly he knew his logic, fear was also powerful, and it forced him to hide even now. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rave, fight, cry, fall. He felt a tension like stress, diverged into a thousand other things, that gathered in his chest and fed anguish to his heart. A steady, delicate threat that bound him to his sanity.

He had so many things he needed to say, but there were no words.

xxxxxx

_Drama!_ Or, at least, I hope.

Sephiroth doesn't appear until next chapter, because I'm mainly focusing on Cloud's relationship with Zack at the moment. The stuff with Sephiroth will be slow and will take a while. :D Which means more story. Words cannot express how obsessed I am with the awesome brotherly friendship between Zack and Cloud at the moment. I've found the ultimate Zack tribute on youtube...I was actually crying. Poor Zack. I'm strange in the sense that sad scenes like that inspire me, because I want to change what happens. Ergo, you get this, in which Zack is alive. :D


	3. From the Ashes

Chapter three! It's been a while since something has inspired me past the first chapter, let alone the second. Let's hope it keeps going. Sephiroth's first appearence :D And explanation of Cloud's abilities as Ultimate.

xxxxxx

Sephiroth sighed, pen pausing on the paper, as the adamant sound of his door being pushed open interrupted his quiet.

There was only one person with the nerve to enter his quarters like that so rudely.

"What is it, Zack?" He inquired, not even trying to feign interest. Such disturbances were common enough on the man's part. It was times such as this when Sephiroth regretted his decision to promote Zack Fair to lieutenant.

Zack strolled up cheerfully from the open door, utterly cavalier about his abrupt entrance to the office of one of the most dangerous men that existed. A moment later, approximately four inches of paperwork impacted his desk.

"I was coming up, and your secretary asked me to bring you these." Zack announced. "Enjoy!" His grin was in pace, as per usual, but there was something...off...about it. Like it was dampened, or the edges of his smile were weighed down. In Zack, that was practically a declaration of depression.

"And?" Sephiroth cast a careless glance over the cursed pile. He wished he were still First Class, rather than General. He wouldn't have nearly as much paperwork. It was the only thing that he couldn't destroy in some horrifically violent way without consequences.

Zack's smile, seeming strained, didn't hold for long. He deflated, sinking bonelessly into the chair opposite the desk. "I'm worried about my rookie." He admitted.

Sephiroth raised an elegant eyebrow, ticking another box on his current form. "...Your rookie."

Zack nodded. "Yep. You know, Cloud. I've told you about him. His hair is a crime against gravity." Sephiroth restrained himself from replying that he rarely listened to the man's long and detailed speeches, though his description did strike a chord in his memory. Perhaps some part of his mind was unconsciously paying attention. "A couple days ago, his dormies come running to find someone on patrol, which happened to be me, thanks to you. I'm glad, though, because Cloud had randomly screamed and struggled himself out of bed. I took him to the infirmary, right, and they said there was nothing wrong with him, except a weirdly huge amount of brain activity for someone who's unconscious."

"What are you worried about, if they said he was fine?" Sephiroth sighed irritably. He'd often thought that most of his bad temper came from the paperwork. The general glared hatefully at the pile, putting the completed sheet aside. If someone could invent a spell that did paperwork, he'd give them all the gil in Shinra.

"They _said_ he was fine, but he obviously wasn't." Zack shifted impatiently, bringing up one foot to the seat and resting his chin on the knee. "Cloud's the quiet type. Doesn't say much and just sort of half-glares at everything. He's got this _adorable_ emo-boy thing, he looks like an annoyed chocobo." Zack smiled briefly, but then frowned again. "He doesn't show what he's feeling unless you force it out of him. But then, in the infirmary, he wakes up, and _stares_ at me. It was seriously disturbing, Seph, he looked like he'd seen a ghost." The deeply concerned tone of his psuedo-friend convinced Sephiroth to finally pay full attention. It took a lot to make Zack this worried about something.

Sephiroth met the SOLDIER's eyes expectantly. Seeing the silent request to continue, Zack gladly did. "Then he sort of reached out, like he thought I wasn't there, or something. And then he suddenly start _crying._" The man's blue eyes accurately displayed his distress. "Cloud's a strong kid. It's seriously hard to get him to tell you what he's thinking, and he _doesn't_ break down like that. I've never, _never_ seen him show even a fifth as much emotion as he did then. It scared me, Seph, he looked so lost."

The silver-haired man frowned. "Perhaps he had a nightmare of some sort." He wondered why he was even listening. Maybe it was because it distressed the unflappable Zack that he took notice, or maybe he'd merely fallen to the level of gossip. This 'Cloud' was someone he'd never heard of outside of Zack's rambling, and couldn't be especially significant. Sephiroth mused on the strangeness of Zack making friends with a nobody. Then again, the man didn't operate like he did. Zack attracted people of all sorts without distinction between rank or notoriety.

"Yeah, that's what the nurse said too. But what could he have dreamed about? I've woken him up plenty of times, and I've never seen him dreaming, let alone having a nightmare." Zack gestured wildly, accentuating his words. "But that's not the only thing. Early today, he woke up again, and looked like he was about to break down again, but he didn't. He looked really tired out, even though he'd just slept longer than he ever has here. Then he randomly says he's going training, didn't care about the nurses at all! So, I go with him to one of the gyms, and he trains way harder than he ever has, nearly to the point where he's collapsing from pain. When I tried to get him to stop, he said something about being 'too weak' and carried on."

Sephiroth mused silently over the new information. New dedication like that was rare. The nightmare theory still partially explained it, because sometimes a dream about loved ones dying on one's behalf drove them to try to get stronger, so as to be able to protect those people. But nightmares powerful enough to give that sort of focus were rare, most people could dismiss a nightmare after initial fright. If this cadet was as emotionally strong as Zack said, crying because of a nightmare seemed highly improbable.

"After a couple hours, obviously he had to go to training. So I went to do some paperwork." He wrinkled his nose distastefully. Apparently, they shared their ire for the hellspawn. "Later, when training was finished, I went looking from him. Worried, you know. I ask around, and apparently he had an accident in Materia."

Sephiroth snorted softly. Materia accidents were depressingly common, but tended to not extend past cadets. "What were they doing?"

"Summoning." Zack replied, looking oddly bemused. "It's a weird thing to screw up. I mean, with low level stuff like that, you either can't do it, can do it, or summon some other tiny animal by accident. But Cloud screwed it up royally, in an awesomely impressive way."

"...I fail to see how a cadet summon accident merits attention." Sephiroth sighed, but listening nonetheless.

"You will, once I explain." Zack grinned, some of his cheer returning. "He apparently smashed his materia, which wouldn't really mean much if he just summoned a mouse or something. But by some freak chance he summoned Phoenix." The SOLDIER settled, eager to watch his friend's reaction.

Sephiroth's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, clearly surprised. "...A cadet summoned Phoenix. And the smashed materia keeps it in our plane."

"Yep!" Zack confirmed brightly. "It's brilliant that a cadet can have so much MP. So, obviously, I went looking for him again, and found him in one of the materia practice rooms. I went in just in time to see this great, raging inferno burn clean through the ground. Apparently, Cloud was testing out Phoenix. It was hilarious, Phoenix is pretty much Cloud's bird-copy! It has the same emo-boy look, not to mention it's yellow with blue eyes." Zack's cheer suddenly vanished, as quickly as it had come. "But then I asked him how he was, and he just...zoned out, and suddenly looked all lost and sad. I mean, he normally looks kind of depressed, but that's just the `I'm a moody teenager' sort of sad. This was more...I don't know." Zack shrugged helplessly. "It was kind of like the 'about to break down' kind of sad, but he didn't. I really wish I knew what's bugging him."

"He might have received a letter from home with bad news." Sephiroth suggested. "It's common enough."

"No, I don't think so." Zack disagreed. "If it was, he'd tell me so I'd stop bugging him. Not only that, but a letter from home wouldn't explain why he looks at me like he thinks I'm about to drop dead every five seconds."

"Hmm." Sephiroth speculated, his over-analytical brain branching into various imaginitive and ridiculous routes. He promptly dismissed the train of thought, seeings as how he evidently wouldn't be getting anything useful from it. "I have no explanation, I'm afraid." He signed a paper briskly, moving it aside onto the 'finished' pile.

"Damn." Zack's face fell. "Well, I guess I'll go make sure Phoenix hasn't set his bed on fire. See ya!"

Sephiroth watched, exasperated, as the SOLDIER man scrambled from the seat and quick-stepped animatedly out of the room.

Zack would be the death of him one day...

xxxx

Cloud woke with a violent jolt, heart beating frantically and the adrenaline of shock sparking through his veins like an electric current. For a moment, he was numb and disoriented, but then the dark surroundings cleared. Dorm. Bed. Covers. Walls.

He'd hoped that the nightmares wouldn't carry over into this time, but apparently, that wasn't the case. He breathed, deeply, and felt the numbness recede, leaving a strange feeling of strength. Odd. His conscious, nagging sensation of weakness was just that little bit less significant, that tiny bit less incessant. He felt...stronger. It was by a pathetically small amount, and hardly noticeable, but in his paranoia it was something that Cloud could consciously note.

And that, by itself, was suspicious. Not even with mako did anyone get stronger _that_ quickly, and with the pathetic amount of physical conditioning he'd done the day before it was impossible to have improved enough that he could notice it.

Silently, Cloud slipped out of his place on the top bunk, landing softly on the floor. He didn't wake the others as he glided over the ground, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He found it odd that he could see anything in this darkness, with no light, or even any windows that the moon could creep through. Technically, it should be completely black. But, even a little, there seemed to be a transparent blue that softly illuminated the surroundings, just enough to make his way around.

Cloud looked to where he knew the mirror to be, in its place above the sink, used to inspect face injuries or brush your teeth by. And he froze, because that glass reflected two small points of blue light, glittering dimly and liquid in the dark. His face was freed partially from the pervading shadows, features mildly visible in the glow that his eyes gave off. He noted, dumbly, that the adrenaline from his dream had not depleted at all, or even faded. It was, now that he thought about it, like a weaker pulse of the mako-thrill that spurred SOLDIERs into constant awareness.

But that was impossible. Because his mako had been lost in the shift. And what he saw in the mirror, felt in his veins, was the firect consequence of the presence of mako. It was small, and only amounted to five mako injections, but it was the start of the strength that came with it.

Briefly, Cloud wallowed in his confusion, staring at his reflection with the luminescent eyes. He had no explanation for this.

And then he remembered that someone else did. The memories of another WEAPON, his predecessor, locked away in the back of his head until called upon. Determined to find his answers, Cloud dove into the old experiences, his giant reference book of life. He searched for anything relevant to mako, and found Ultimate's initial frustration at the loss of his mako. And then...disbelief, because he had the first signs of mako's effects. Searching deeper, Cloud found what he was looking for.

He confirmed, with a rush of euphoria, that his mako would slowly return, more every day. Mako, while a liquid that was physically injected, was a spiritual thing, and as a result became a part of a person's soul. Since it was essentially his spiritual essence that came back in time, it made sense that his mako would come too. It was likely, apparently, that he might suffer from mako poisoning if too much came at once at some point. It returned and it returned quickly. But Cloud wasn't afraid of mako poisoning. He understoon now that there was a trick to it -- if you had something that you had to be alive for, and if you needed it enough, then mako poisoning would end.

It was massively pleasing to know that his weakness was only temporary. That he could continue to become stronger, strong enough to save those who'd died. Supremely cheered, Cloud mused on a solution for the one significant problem that this would bring about.

Mako eyes. They were obviously not something he could display to the public as he was.

It took a brief second and a browse through Ultimate's memories to find the solution. Just as quietly as before, Cloud creeped back into the main dorm, and reached into his bag for a materia. He took it quickly back into the bathroom, the glow of his eyes combining with the luminescence of the materia. He grasped it, and cast a spell, used for disguise. Cloud watched, satisfied, as the glow of his eyes faded to its more natural sky blue. He held up the materia to check the time on a small clock hung on the wall.

5:00am. He had about an hour.

Briskly, Cloud slipped into his clothes, pocketing the materia. It was a low level spell, and as a result would thankfully not drain his MP too much. Especially with the capacity increased, courtesy of his mako. It was with great care that Cloud left the room, mindful of his sleeping roommates, and left into the cool corridor.

Apparently, Phoenix had left in the night. He felt mildly sad at that, he'd grown fond of the bird in their brief rapport. He'd have to summon it again sometime.

Cloud kept to the walls as much as he could, not wanting to be spotted by the night patrol.

Now that he had mako, not only was he stronger, but he would get stronger more quickly as well. The thought spurred him on as he sneaked through the desolate hallways to the gym.

xxxx

Zack, in his search for Cloud, had gone first to his dorm. It was a logical first move, because it was night and that was when people tended to be in their rooms. But, apparently, at some point Cloud had woken and left somewhere. Probably training, if the last day had been any indication.

He'd likely be in a gym room, as he had no reason to want to practice materia, as far as he knew. Zack headed straight for E4. It was common that people would claim a place as 'theirs' to train in if they liked it, and Cloud would probably appreciate the challenge of some of the stuff in there.

Evidently, Zack was quite correct, as he entered the gym to find Cloud doing pull-ups on a bar. And quite well, too. Something strange was that Cloud was doing it in complete darkness. Of course, Zack had distinguished mako eyes, and could see in the dark through the glow they gave off. But Cloud, in this kind of blackness, shouldn't be able to find his way around.

"Cloud!" He called. "I thought I might find you here. What are you doing, training in the dark?"

The cadet abruptly stiffened mid-exercise, then hung and dropped to the floor. "Zack." He sounded as if he were attempting to mask surprise as he turned to face him. "...I'm good at seeing in the dark. And this way, there's less risk of people finding a way to punish me for being up after hours."

Zack chuckled, moving over to ruffle the adamant yellow spikes of Cloud's hair affectionately. "Why are you even up so early?"

Cloud shrugged uncomfortably. "I just...woke up. I had a good hour that I could use to train, so..."

"You woke up? Just like that?" Zack persisted. "You looked knackered yesterday." He was definitely leaving something out.

"I'm a light sleeper." Cloud answered curtly, looking defensive. It was the kind of expression that stated plainly that it was a bad idea to question further. Zack was about to give up when Cloud shifted, looking...guilty? "...I had a nightmare." He conceded finally.

So, _that_ was it. Zack dragged Cloud down with him onto a nearby bench. The kid probably needed a timeout, anyway. "...What was it about?" He asked carefully, considerate of the fact that nightmares were often difficult things to talk about.

Cloud looked away. "...Just bad memories." His eyes met Zack's for a single moment, and there was a brief impression of a thousand secrets, an overwhelming desperation. And then it was gone, like it had never been there. Even so, the boy looked strangely vulnerable. Feeling a powerful, sudden protectiveness, Zack pulled Cloud to his side in a one-armed hug.

"...You don't have to tell me." Zack murmured. "But you don't have to keep everything to yourself. Think about that, hey, Spike?"

Cloud seemed unnaturally tense, as if he would bolt at any second. "...I know." He spoke finally. Zack thought for a moment that he would break free and return to training, but instead he stayed there, looking unsure of what to do.

They sat still for a while in the silence. Gradually, some of Cloud's tension ebbed away, as if he'd decided that whatever worry he'd had was irrational. The quiet changed from awkward to content. Suddenly, the warmth seemed almost comforting, and they shared some long minutes of companionship, friendship evident between them.

Eventually, Cloud shifted his head slightly to glance at the clock, propped on one vast steel wall. It was with reluctance that the cadet spoke, as if unhappy to disrupt this moment of simple comfort. "...I have to go." He said, hesitantly. "I'll have to get showered for the day."

With that, Zack abruptly broke from the laxness of their position on the bench, standing and using his formerly embracing arm to pull Cloud up. "Okay! I'll see you later. Don't burn down the complex!" He ruffled Cloud's hair again for good measure, and left, pondering over the mystery of his blond friend.

xxxx

It was on Mondays and Wednesdays that all weapon practice came into play. Coincidentally, today happened to be one of the latter, and Cloud was treated to several sessions of training that were strangeness incarnated.

Generally, Shinra cadets were given basic training with most general weapons. They did guns, swords, and daggers. Any complicated weapons, such as the one Reno used, were a personal preference chosen after graduating. Or, in Reno's cade, admittance to the Turks. That included things such as buster swords, like Zack's. Certainly, First Tsurugi fit neatly into that category, and was possibly one of the most difficult weapons in existence to use. It six blades had required an impressive amount of practice to learn to coordinate properly.

Cloud wished he could have his sword back. It would make him feel safer, to say the least.

Currently, they were using cheap army rifles for target practice. Cloud was only thankful that his time in the regulation army had generally refused to use anything but guns, and as a result his aim wasn't entirely useless. Still, while Vincent could pin a fly to a tree five hundred feet away _without_ killing it, Cloud had no real passion for guns. He might be an ex-experiment WEAPON, but he certainly wasn't fond of guns like the other man was.

His next shot hit two inches from the bullseye. He sighed irritably. Cloud really, really did _not_ like using guns. Sure, some of them were dangerous and refined, but this one certainly wasn't. It was cheap and pathetic.

"Alright, brats, that's it for gun practice!" Intructor Koto shouted. "Put away your rifles and grab a sword from the box. Pair up and spar."

Cloud smirked slightly. Obviously, this was something he needed to test out. He hung his rifle on a hook, and made a beeline for the box, bending to inspect its contents.

Cheap and weak, they'd probably snap in five seconds if you applied any real force. But they were well-balanced, at least, so it was easy to learn with them. He took the sturdiest one he could find, and searched expectantly for someone to practice with. Preferably someone who wasn't a bumbling idiot.

"Oi, Strife." Cloud turned, and came face to face with one of the more skilled cadets, named Ryuno. Of course, this drove him to a level of pride that was almost sickening to look at, but he'd do. "Want to spar?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly, expressing his disdain quite clearly, but shrugged and accepted regardless. "There's a space over there." Cloud indicated.

"So there is." Ryuno agreed. "Come on, then. We don't have all day."

Cloud rolled his eyes, and merely followed. He was a grown man, unlike this idiot, and he wasn't going to be ruffled by some arrogant brat. Once they'd assembled in their chosen space, Cloud slid into his starting stance, mildly alarmed at how alien and strange it felt.

Perhaps this would be harder than he'd thought.

His guess was verified when Ryuno came forward, sword held incorrectly and at an angle that wouldn't do more than bruise if it impacted. Still, there was some meager amount of force behind it, and he was still accumulating his mako. At his current level, any bruises earned from this incompetent cadet would be meritably painful.

Cloud brought up his sword to block, relishing the familiar clash of steel on steel. It was his favorite form of combat. Still, though, every motion felt strange and unnatural. Not difficult, just _strange._ And the strangeness made it difficult. Cloud stumbled as he retaliated with his counterattack, using much more effort to keep the moves true than he'd had to in over nine years. He had to concentrate, and _really_ concentrate, to do the stances correctly. It was as if he were learning it entirely anew, as if he had none of the muscle memory that came with practice. He knew the motions well, and when he focused it was simple enough to do them with some semblance of style, but it wasn't nearly no effortless and unconscious as it had always been before.

Thouroughly annoyed, Cloud clenched his teeth and retaliated with a sharp shove, gnawing a nick into the side of Ryuno's sword. It would break soon, if he applied too much force.

Apparently, he'd have to re-teach his muscles how to fight. And that was a sore annoyance that very much dampened the euphoria that the returning mako brought.

He noted, though, that because he himself knew the style well enough, he was adapting quickly. Cloud didn't know if it was an effect of mako, if perhaps the spiritual liquid also helped nerve memory. Maybe it was simply practice. Whatever it was, though, the new weight wasn't so heavy when he realized that it might perhaps not take as long as he'd anticipated.

If he ever got another sword like First Tsurugi, though, _that_ would be difficult to master again. Cloud sighed irritable, and dodged around the coming blow, dealing his own with an awkward slice. He put his power into it, because these swords were blunted to use for practice. If he hit hard enough, he might break skin. Even if he hadn't, the hit to Ryuno's elbow had sent shockwaves up the whole arm, causing him to drop his sword. Cloud pinned the idiot to the ground, bowling him roughly over with his foot, and holding the tip of the sword to his neck.

'Dead'. This fight was over.

xxxx

Cloud, after defeating Ryuno, moved away and claimed an empty corner for his own practice. He did the motions of every stance harsh and swift, faster every time. If his body didn't remember, then he would _make_ it. Muscle amnesia was something he refused to deal with. He was pleased that it grew much easier, and much quicker the more he tried it. But it still wasn't enough. He still, even to some degree, had to think about his movements before he made them. A fighting style had to be so ingrained that it was carried out automatically, a thousand millisecond calculations that were more and less than thought. Instinct was a vital part of fighting, and it was something that would cost lives on the battlefield.

He supposed he must have looked quite ridiculous to the other cadets, slashing and raving at the empty air as if there were foes in the miniscule particles that drifted in their midst. Their opinions, however, mattered nothing. This was his training. His purpose. Pride could not be allowed to get in its way. War had no room for pride.

After training had finished, Cloud did not go to the cafeteria, because he wasn't particularly eager for the slop they served. SOLDIERS had to go without food on missions occasionally, so it wasn't anything that mattered. Instead, Cloud walked the outer corridor near the outside of the complex, eyes trained on the track he could see from the window. Physical conditioning was tommorow. Something that, while gruelling, was training that he welcomed with open arms.

And then, in the distance, he saw the blue plume of a mako reactor.

Cloud froze, and suddenly the voices of the Lifestream spilled into his head, filling him with a pressure, and urge, an _instinct._

_Threatdanger,_ They screamed. _Kill! Eliminate! _It was then that Cloud understood what it meant to be a WEAPON. When the Planet called on you, you were obliged to obey. But he couldn't. Not yet. Mind repressed from the unbearable effort of resisting the command, Cloud shouted back an argument in their own broken dialect.

_Useless, dead._ He insisted, struggling to keep back the power that fought for destruction. _Later! Advantage. Wait._

They paused, and the instinct hung frozen, no longer pushing in its terrible insistence. _Wait._ They agreed finally, and the pressure receded. Cloud took a deep breath, exhaling deeply in relief. He didn't know what would happen if he conceded to that power, but it wasn't something he wanted to find out. Not now.

He shuddered once, and made his way to his favorite gym. It had some very handy equipment, including velcro strap weights which would undoubtedly intensify the training. Generally, that room was used for last minute training, and sometimes frequented by the more serious cadets. Thankfully, those were a notorious few, and no one disturbed his training there.

Now that there was mako enhancing his progress, his efforts would bear more fruit. Cloud strapped on weights to his shins and wrists, then proceeded to make a jump for the pull-up bar. It was difficult, and he had to try again before he could reach it, weighed down as he was.

The training was gruelling through-and-through, but the sheer difficulty gave Cloud a strange thrill. The harder it was, the quicker he'd grow strong. And, the instant it started to feel easier, Cloud increased his weight more and more.

Normal cadets would not be able to physically withstand this sort of training. Working out so incessantly and with so much additional weight, they'd rip their muscles in no time. But the healing factor also provided by mako allowed him freedom from that particular ailment. The freedom to push himself to such extremes was almost refreshing. Being able to sustain effort was something he'd missed, in the past day and the several months of sickness before.

A part of his mind wondered where Zack was, a pang of the now-familiar anxiety afllicting him. Knowing the man, he'd be looking for him about now. Maybe.

Cloud sighed irritably. He really _had_ become dependant.

Well, it went without saying that he hoped Zack would be here soon.

xxxx

Several hours later, Cloud left E4 with Zack, headed for his dorm.

"-And, of course, it didn't take me long to kick his ass. He was only 3rd class." Zack declared proudly. "But then I got put on probation for picking fights with other SOLDIERS. _That _was annoying, let me tell you. Still, it left me a lot of time to train, which had to help."

Cloud scowled at his friend's tale of the arrogant man who'd made crude and insulting references to Zack and Aerith's relationship. "Bastard deserved it." He muttered.

"I know!" Zack voiced his disapproval loudly. "But he _still_ put me on probation for it! Someone really needs to teach Seph the meaning of humor."

He blinked slowly, a feeling of suspicion curling in his chest. "Seph as in Sephiroth?"

"Yeah." Zack answered, giving him a calculative glance. "...Why?"

"...He's always seemed a bit close to losing it, if you ask me." Cloud replied darkly, voice carefully low.

Zack was silent for a few moments, expression deliberating between reluctance and concession. "...I know what you mean." He admitted. "Poor guy does seem a bit...off....sometimes. But as long as he doesn't go mental, he's a pretty cool guy."

Cloud shrugged. "I wouldn't know." After all, the man that he used to admire had been forcefully replaced with a lunatic bent on his destruction.

"You'll meet him some day, if you're gonna be in SOLDIER." Zack stated confidently, flashing him a grin. "He's scary as hell when you first meet him, but he never actually does anything more than glower at you and make you feel uncomfortable."

"Joy." Cloud drawled sarcastically, sparing a quick glance out of the passing window, to the flares of mako bursting into the darkness. The instinct roused, merely giving a hint at what he should do. The faint flickers of the Limit Break feeling glimmered again, and Cloud ignored it, fearful of what destruction it would cause.

His WEAPON abilities...the instinct...it was dangerous. He could end up killing thousands of people on a mere whim, and that scared him. He could annihilate the very things he was trying to protect.

This power....it was a mystery. Something he had no knowledge of. And unknown factors like that tended to be deadly.

A dark haze settled on his thoughts, and Cloud steeled himself.

Tonight, he would sift through Ultimate's memories. He couldn't stay unaware anymore, not with so much on the line.

"Spike, you're spacing out again." Zack prodded him on the forehead, a teasing expression on his face. "Head in the clouds, Cloud?"

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Shut up." He offered good-naturedly.

The dark haired man laughed freely, the sound reverberating down the shadowed corridors.

xxxx

When Cloud entered room 49, his roommates were asleep. He had long days, waking early and sleeping late, and with the outrageous hour, it was no surprise that the mentally younger boys had happily passed out in their beds.

Praising himself on his newfound stealth, perhaps something to do with his low body mass, Cloud lifted himself onto his bunk, not bothering to undress. It was likely that he'd be back to the training rooms soon, anyway. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes with a sigh. Carefully, he picked through the haze of dormancy surrounding Ultimate's consciousness, reaching through into its nebulous folds. Tentative at first, he searched for the first memory of the instinct--

_Purpose. Destruction. Ravekillburnfall -- end! Threat. Eliminate. Purpose._

--And winced at the ancient sensation of the instinct. The memory was, by chance, of the main threat at that time. There were no exceptions and no excuses when confronted with the reason the Planet had been called to initiate Ultimate. The feeling of that sheer _force_ was ubelievable, even in a memory so far away from himself. More cautiously, Cloud pried a bit later, attempting to block out the remembered instinct. What happened when you conceded to the Lifestream?

Cloud braced himself against the torrent of memories. _Pain. Change. Not human, not anymore. Black wings, black tail. Claws. Dragon. What? Who? ....WEAPON. Ultimate. My form. Me. Mine....Power. Strong. Purpose. Destroy. Changed. I am a WEAPON._ He withdrew quickly, shuddering from the sheer intensity. Apparently, a human who died and became a WEAPON not only had his original human form, but could change to the form of his inner monster at will, partially or completely. When you gave in to the instinct, you'd either become a hybrid or fully changed, but you'd transform in some way. It depended on which was more convenient.

Somewhat dazedly, Cloud wondered if he could change into a giant black dragon. But then another facet of the change hit him, one of those pieces of knowledge that only immortals would ever likely know. The 'true' form of a WEAPON changed according to the soul who took up the mantle. In a human lifetime, this wasn't noticed, generally due to the fact that WEAPONS tended to last thousands of years without being replaced. The form of the Ultimate before him had been a black dragon, to match his nature, and further back had been other forms. They were generally dragons, though, whether feathered, furred, or scaled. All weapons usually resembled dragons in some way, as dragons were thoughr even by the Lifestream to be symbols of power.

And, of course, Cloud was left wondering what on the Planet _his_ form looked like.

He knew, logically, that he'd have to explore this new aspect of himself at some point. But it felt forbidden, like taboo, a place where humans should not tread. And, though he knew that he wasn't human anymore, he remembered it, and it almost felt the same. Through his undeniably non-WEAPON mind, the concept of becoming something else was alien, the most difficult thing he'd ever tried to picture. As if something, deep in his consciousness, rejected even a remote possibility of its occurence.

Ultimate had felt the same, and learning to change had been an immense struggle for him, a fight to bypass those unwritten laws of existence, a struggle to pass the forbidden line. His progress had been slow, because his previous incarnation had initially transformed fully by the instinct, leaving no memories of how to wage war against your own consciousness. The transformation had been partial, bit-by-bit, until at last he'd been able to tranform fully. Changing back to human wasn't a problem, it was most familiar, after all. One thing that was dominant in Ultimate's every memory of the change was the raw power that came with it, and the mystical abilities that his form carried.

Cloud, though, was lucky. He could access those memories, he knew the tricks to the struggle, how to win. He knew, also, the shortcut that Ultimate had realised right at the end. It apparently _wasn't_ a battle against oneself, or a frustrating struggle. Not unless you made it. Of course, getting past your humanity was a task that couldn't be avoided, but beyond that, the true step to transformation was to understand yourself. If you knew, and you knew well enough, then your form would be like second nature. Once you knew, _then_ came the fight to break down the wall that was natural human denial. A wall between one's human self, and the other creature that waited to see the sun.

From Ultimate's memory, he knew that the full form of WEAPON had unimaginable power when unleashed to its full. Apparently, unless confronted with something the Planet registered as a threat, it was impossible to achieve 100 percent of one's strength, which was likely the reason Cloud had been able to defeat the ancient being even in his transformed state. The power, even through second-hand rememberance, was a vivid reward, an omniscient knowing that you were worthy of protecting your allies. But, also, it was a terrible thing to earn, a frightening and anguishing result. A person's sense of humanity ran deeper than anyone was consciously aware of, and when a WEAPON looked upon their true form for the first time, their humanity shattered. It was a horrible thing to know with certainty that you were a monster, and no matter the person it was always worthy of an emotional breakdown.

That chaotic consequence was something that Cloud feared, more and more with every memory he viewed of it. Ultimate, with all his cold-star brilliance, had screamed anguish the first time he transformed, and the melancholy had never been eased in his loneliness. The former WEAPON had lost all of his friends to the flow of time, leaving him with an empty desolation that made him long to have his role relinquished somehow. The monster had been strong, body and soul, but he'd always remembered his initial change as one of the most difficult moments he'd ever experienced.

But...it was something that had to be done.

Tired of sitting among other people, even asleep as they were, Cloud left for elsewhere to meditate on his identity.

He didn't want to be inside. Something so personal as this was nothing he wished to confront in the cold halls of Shinra. He needed to be outside, somewhere where he could see the sky.

With that thought in mind, Cloud slinked silently through the complex for a rarely travelled route, the way to the outdoors. The door, when he came to it, was locked. Of course. A simple spell of telekinesis was more than sufficient to mentally prod the tiny cogs that opened his way to freedom.

He closed the door behind him, thankful that Zack assumed him asleep, and wouldn't come looking for him any time soon. Cloud gazed searchingly for somewhere, anywhere, that he could sit in peace.

With a brief decision, Cloud headed back to the building, though not the inside. He hauled himself up, over the roofs, higher and higher, until he was outlined against the sky, like a blade poised before the moon. Eight flares of mako breathed a flourescent wave into the sky, inhabiting it with blue flecks of light. The only sound was the far-off noise of cars and other such things.

He closed his eyes, feeling the cool wid in his hair.

So, who was he?

On the surface, he was Cloud Strife. Cold, calm, and collected. Little feeling escaped his walls, other than various forms of reproach. Underneath, he was much more disorganised, especially in the recent days of haywire emotion. He was guilt, for something he couldn't forgive himself for, even if others did. He was sadness -- an despairing cry in the night. Two friends, one of which who had been left behind while the other found peace in death. Sadness and shame were two things that defined him, a melancholy that shifted constantly in a nebulous pattern to his thoughts. Those two things had their pathogens and their consequences. The result was anguish and self-hatred, regret and obsession. All were things he'd experienced in abundancy the last few days -- the first of his new life.

What else? What else defined him?

It was difficult, to pick your very soul apart and examine it so thoroughly. Even with his gift for analysis, Cloud was almost afraid of the knowledge that any epiphanies would bring about. Knowing who you were, truly, could be a very exhausting secret. Nevertheless, he dove deeper. Who was Cloud Strife?

Branching from the regret -- the sadness, the shame -- was a fierce desire to protect what he had left. Those precious to him were more dear than his own life by far. More than desire, it was a _need_ to know that they were safe. His sanity hung by a thread, ready to snap should anything happen to his loved ones again. He fought with all the quick brilliance of lightning, tempered by its own storms. He blazed like fire, to burn and to nurture. He was warmth for those he loved and an inferno to his enemies. Fire both helped and hindered by the winds that surrounded it. Fire like Phoenix, who had just yesterday left to return to its own realm. The bird, Cloud thought, was much like him. Even in appearences, they were alike. They both blazed with ancient fire. They both nurtured a cold contradictory to their nature behind their eyes.

_Flash._ Suddenly, there were images pouring down upon him, and he was caught in a hurricane. Ever faster, they came at him with all the brilliance of the sun and the cold of the space that surrounded it. His life was like a candle, dancing calm with little disturbance in the first few seconds it burned. Then, a flicker, a fluctuation in the flow of his life. Something that changed. It went on, the candle burning brighter and flickering agitatedly with those things that shook the foundations of his world. Then, in a final catastrophe, the candle spilled, burning everything in its surroundings. That last moment was the shortest, the sudden apocalypse that should have been his destruction.

Everything, at that morose point, was burned out. Great grey piles of soot, and no fire. The candle was burned out on its side.

But at the very tip of the candlestick, in a tiny spot of ash, was a miniscule spark of heat. A fleck of fire-yellow, struggling to continue through the black oppression.

And that spark grew, because there was nothing else within its capablities. The spark kindled, and became a flame again, burning through the darkness.

And thus was Cloud Strife, the cold-blood phoenix, born again from the ashes.

xxxxxx

....:D Mental epiphanies. (I hope that last bit didn't sound too cheesy...) Personally, in this context, I think a phoenix thing suits Cloud. Whoo.

If you're not discouraged already, hopefully you'll be inclined to continue reading. :) Also, I have to inform you that for a while I won't be able to update past chapter 4. The complete chapter five hadn't been backup'ed when my laptop's charger stopped working. Until I get a new one, I can't get chapter 5. (which, I must say, is completely and ridiculously huge)


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